Emerald Sonata
by boreum dal
Summary: Syaoran, a roadside painter who's searching for his family, rises to fame when he anonymously paints a picture of Sakura. In turn, Sakura searches for the artist of the painting, not seeing that the man she's looking for might be right in front of her...
1. Providence

**Emerald Sonata**

Hello, everyone! Lol, I'm back with a new story, even though I haven't even completed any of my other three T-T Though, I am very, very, VERY close to completing "Born Perfect." Anyway, I've had the original idea for this story in my head for a very long time, and I only came to figure out the plot this summer, so here I am (: I hope you guys like it, as I think it's one of the more intricate storylines I've created, and I spent a lot of time trying to perfect this first chapter, haha. Well, please read and review, and enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Cardcaptor Sakura and all of its characters are not mine. I only own the plot, and maybe a few original characters later on.

**Summary: **Syaoran Li is a young roadside painter living in Tokyo, determined to find his family, whom he lost track of when he was fifteen years old. Sakura Kinomoto is a high school student in her last year, constantly thinking about a mysterious boy she met three years ago. When Syaoran, by a stroke of fate, paints a portrait of Sakura under an alias, the painting becomes famous. As the two eventually meet and become closer, Syaoran keeps hisidentity as the artist a secret for his own reasons.Sakura, a natural romantic,continually seeks out the painter, believing that she'll fall in love with the mysterious artist, not realizing that the man she's searching for might be right in front of her...

**Chapter 1: **Providence

_Fifteen-year-old Sakura Kinomoto ran desperately around her humongous new school, lost and trying to find someone who could give her a ride home. Her shoes clomped loudly on the ground, and the noise echoed throughout the empty hallways. No teachers, no students who could help her were to be found- for some reason, everyone was already gone. _

_She stopped running, tears filling her eyes. She stood in the middle of a hallway and looked around, not knowing what to do; her father was on a business trip, and even after several calls, her brother wouldn't pick up his cell phone. She had no friends to call to pick her up, as she'd just moved to Tomoeda, and she knew that her house was miles and miles away. _

_Now sobbing, she walked down the hall, panic blocking off any reasonable thought. She passed an open classroom without realizing it. _

"_Is something the matter?" Someone asked from behind her. _

_Sakura turned around to see a boy about her age with brown hair, brown eyes, and paint all over his hands and uniform. He had a somewhat angry expression on his face, though Sakura had no idea why. While she took immediate comfort in knowing that she wasn't alone, his expression scared her even more. _

"_I- I'm new here and I'm lost, I h-have no ride home," she sputtered out, feeling like a baby for crying so hard. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to stop. _

_The boy's expression softened, and so did the tone of his voice. "You must be new here. Everyone's gone home early today, because midyear exams are tomorrow, and both the students and the teachers need to prepare. If you want, I can drive you home. I just have to get cleaned up. Just wait out here, okay?"_

_Sakura, surprised, merely nodded, holding the straps of her bookbag and wiping the rest of her tears away. As the boy went off to the restroom to wash, Sakura sidled over to the open door of the classroom to see why he had so much paint all over him, and she gasped. _

_In the room, an artroom, propped up on an easel was the most beautiful painting she'd ever seen, even though it was still a work in progress. Judging by the messy palettes and brushes that were scattered on the table around it, Sakura figured that the boy had been working on that painting. _

"_You ready to go?" The boy asked, startling her. _

_She nodded and followed him down the hall and out the door, relief surging through her veins. She knew that the boy could have been someone with bad intentions, but for some reason, she believed that he wasn't. _

_The two got into his car; fortunately, when Sakura told the boy her address, he knew exactly how to get there. On the way there, she studied his features out of the corner of her eye- his unruly hair was a chestnut shade, matching his amber eyes perfectly. His eyes seemed to glow with sort of angry fire in them, which, Sakura realized, was probably why he seemed to look so grim. He was actually very good-looking, Sakura thought, and wondered why he'd been staying after school by himself, instead of out with his friends._

_Suddenly, as the car stopped in the driveway of her house, something rolled out under her seat as the boy braked: a watch with a green band, its face rimmed in silver; the hands of the watch, Sakura could see, were molded into the shape of two silver wolves' heads in perfect minute detail. She picked it up and handed it to the boy. "This came out from under your seat."_

_The boy looked at it once, and Sakura saw his jaw tighten. He looked back out of the windshield and muttered, "I don't want it. You can have it."_

"_What?" Sakura said. This was unexpected. "I don't even know you, I couldn't possibly take it-"_

"_You'd do me a favor by taking it." The boy said. He seemed to really hate the watch, but, like everything else about him, Sakura had no idea why. _

"_Ah- all right, then...thank you," she said, not sure what to do with it at present. She put the watch in her pocket. "I never got your name?"_

"_Li Syaoran."_

"_It was really nice of you to drive me home...I'm Kinomoto Sakura. I hope I see you again."_

_Syaoran's expression relaxed a little, and he nodded. _

_Forgetting that she didn't even know him, she hugged him tightly before she got out of the car, surprising him. "Thank you so much, Li-kun," she mumbled, and without realizing what she'd done, she stepped out of the car and into her house. _

_Inside of her house, Sakura watched out the window as Syaoran sped away. She took the watch out of her pocket. It was a very expensive and lovely thing, she could tell, and wondered again why he didn't want it. She put it on, and smiled when she saw that it fit snugly around her wrist at a certain notch._

_She never saw Syaoran in the school again. _

**Three years later- Winter, Tokyo**

If Syaoran Li was anything besides an extremely skilled artist, he was easily frustrated. Just now, he'd tipped over an empty palette, on top of which had rested a cup of a dozen or so brushes in water, and caused a few passers by to stare as he groaned loudly, "Oh, great, _now _what!" (It hadn't been the best day so far; usually, he got a customer by nine in the morning, but it was already eleven, and nobody had come.) He stooped down behind his cart to pick it all up when he heard a voice.

"Sir, how much is this painting right here?"

_First customer of the day._ Hurriedly, he wiped his paint-stained hands on his overshirt and stood up to greet the customer. "Five hundred seventy yen," he replied. (A/N: I believe that's about five dollars?)

The customer, an elderly woman, pulled out double the amount requested, and winked, saying, "Don't worry about change."

Syaoran was surprised by this gesture; no one ever paid him extra- most people actually tried to get his paintings at a _lower_ price, which was somewhat ridiculous- gratefully, he accepted the money, boxed the painting for the woman, and after she left, went back to cleaning up the mess on the ground.

_That's odd...I never have luck like that. _

Syaoran, a mere nineteen years old, made his living as a painter on the streets. He'd gained a reputation among the other street vendors as a sort of prodigy, creating magnificent paintings- paintings of things he saw on the streets, but only in a way he could portray them. He worked hard and usually did well, but sometimes, his grim attitude frightened away customers.

He'd graduated two years early, at age sixteen, but having lost track of his family when he was fifteen, he had put his plans of art university aside to make money for a plane ride back to Hong Kong, plus an investigative search for his family...so he'd moved from Tomoeda to Tokyo to work as an artist. As of this year, he had enough money saved for the plane ride...he just needed to save for the search, which would be a bit more expensive. (A/N: Sorry for being so vague about the whole thing T-T I will elaborate soon, though.)

Syaoran made a good enough living through his occupation; he certainly wasn't rich, but he had enough money to get by with the things he needed, and he had a few hundred yen left over every day to put into his savings jar. He seemed to be popular with other street vendors and customers for another reason alongside his talent: he was an oddly versatile young man, with many qualities and contradicting qualities, and he was anything but the stereotypical "sensitive" artist.

Syaoran looked out at the street after he picked everything up, looking for a new subject to paint. Though he went to a different street for every day of the week, he repeated the routine of streets every week, so it was difficult to always find something new. (A/N: For example, if he went to a street called "1st Street" on Monday and "2nd Street" on Tuesday, the next Monday, he'd be back on "1st Street," and on the next Tuesday, he'd be back on "2nd Street.") Secretly, he sometimes painted the same thing, just in a different fashion. His favorite subjects were people. The people of the streets were always different.

Today, as he looked around, he felt peculiarly light.

_Even if I got off to a bad start...today will be a good day._

_I can feel it._

**Tomoeda**

"Otou-san, is it all right if I go to Tokyo today with Tomoyo and Eriol?" Sakura Kinomoto ran down the stairs of her house and into the kitchen, searching for her father, only to find her brother, Touya, eating breakfast, instead.

"One day, you'll fall from those stairs and crack your head on the floor, you know that?" Touya said matter-of-factly, not looking up from his cereal.

"Very funny," Sakura retorted playfully, looking around the kitchen, then the living room. "But where's our dad? I thought he was staying home for the next two weeks, now that it's winter break..."

Touya poured himself another bowl of cereal. "He said he was going on that end-of-semester field trip today. He'd have told you, but you were sleeping, you lazy bum."

Sakura made a face. "Well, then, I'll have to ask you instead; can I go to Tokyo today with Tomoyo?"

"Depends. How late will you be out?"

"I'm going to Tomoyo's house after, and her mother knows."

Touya shrugged. "Fine by me, but stay out of trouble, and be careful, okay?"

Sakura nodded and hugged her brother. "Thank you," she grinned, and ran back up the stairs to get ready.

Twenty minutes later, as she grabbed her things and prepared to leave, she quickly checked herself over in the mirror, then frowned.

She didn't consider herself unattractive, but in comparison to her best friend, Tomoyo, she always felt hopelessly inferior. Tomoyo had always assured Sakura that she was gorgeous, but...

_Tomoyo-chan is too kind for her own good,_ Sakura thought to herself. It was odd, though; rarely did Sakura care that much about her appearance. She wondered what had prompted her to look over her reflection so carefully now, but she decided that it was just the idea of going on a trip to a big city for the day.

While her body had obviously changed over the years as she grew, her face seemed to be the same as it was when she was in elementary school: large emerald eyes, unfortunately prone to exposing her emotions, (thankfully) clear skin, and lips that were always smiling. Her hair, a deep auburn, was a bit longer than it had been when she was a child- it ran down to her shoulder blades now.

She sighed. _It's not like I can do much with myself anyway, _she thought, and stepped out of her bedroom. All negative thoughts forgotten, she grinned. She was excited. She hadn't been to Tokyo in years.

Sakura walked outside, unusually early, and sat on the curb, waiting for her two best friends, Tomoyo and Eriol, to pick her up. She looked at her watch- not to check the time, but just to look. It was the same one she'd received three years ago, with the wolves' heads for its hands. She wore it every day, as she'd grown to love it. Every time she looked at it, though, she wondered what had become of the boy who so willingly gave it to her: Li Syaoran. She still remembered that day, though certain aspects of it were fuzzy, worn away by bad memory. She remembered that she'd been lost, and Syaoran had offered her a ride home...he'd given her the watch, although somewhat forcefully...and she didn't remember the rest. She recalled having seen something magnificent at the school before she'd left, something Syaoran had created...

Suddenly, a car pulled up to her driveway.

"Sakura!" Eriol called from the driver's seat, grinning. "You're early today!"

Sakura laughed. "Yeah, I don't know what's gotten into me," she said, getting into the backseat. "Ohayou (good morning), Tomoyo-chan," she said to her best friend, who was sitting in the passenger seat.

"Ohayou, Sakura-chan," Tomoyo replied. "I'm so excited! Tokyo has so many designer stores and the latest fashions...I'll have to see them all!"

Both Eriol and Sakura laughed nervously.

"All...all of the stores?" Eriol asked, having known Tomoyo long enough to understand that, once she got into something, you couldn't pull her out of it.

"We will have time, right? Since it's early? We should be able to get home by one or two in the morning if I hurry..." Tomoyo trailed off, stars in her eyes.

"Two in the _morning_? Tomoyo, we'll be there by two in the _afternoon_! What could you possibly be doing in those shops for more than twelve hours?" Eriol replied, awestruck.

Sakura intervened. "Tomoyo, how about you only look at a few stores today? We can always go back. Tokyo's just a two-hour car ride away, you know."

Tomoyo sighed, but grinned as she gave in. "Fine, fine. I can't spend all my time in those designer stores anyway, because I've got to buy more fabrics to make Sakura some more clothes!" She squealed giddily, and with that, they were off.

Sakura sighed as she looked out of the window, seeing trees and buildings pass by. Tomoyo and Eriol had been her two best friends for as long as she could remember. The two had also (somewhat obviously) liked each other since middle school, but never admitted it until they finally became a couple in their junior year.

She was happy for them, though sometimes, she found herself wishing for someone to like herself. For a little while, she'd been infatuated with Ryo, a boy who'd been a grade ahead of her, but she knew it was a simple, fruitless crush, and she'd gotten over it after he graduated high school last year.

Oddly enough, when she even began to think about boys, she thought about the most unlikely person- the boy who'd given her the watch. She knew it was weird, wondering about a boy she hardly knew. _All he did was give me a ride home and some watch he didn't even want, _she would think to herself. But she would see his face in her mind's eye- messy brown bangs, enigmatic amber eyes- and she would always go back to her first thoughts: _what happened to him, and what would've happened if we became friends?_

And, with these two thoughts, Sakura fell asleep.

---

Syaoran sat on his stool, doodling idly. He'd painted enough pictures to sell for the day, so now all he had to do was wait for people to come and buy, but no one had been coming all day; it was already four in the afternoon, and in two hours or so, it would get dark...

Suddenly, he saw a customer walking up to his booth, and he hurriedly put the doodle away. The customer, an obviously cheery boy with midnight blue hair and eyes of a slightly darker blue, smiled at the paintings through his glasses. "These are really something," he said to Syaoran.

Syaoran simply nodded. "Thanks." He didn't smile as easily as the customer in front of him.

Despite Syaoran's silence, the boy went on, mentioning something about escaping for a few minutes from his girlfriend and her best friend, who'd gone on some crazy shopping escapade. "I think I'd like to buy a painting for my girlfriend, though...she would really love one of these."

He took his time looking, then picked out a painting of shoppers walking down a street in a winter sunset, paper lanterns hovering over the scene, with the mountains just barely visible in the background- a painting Syaoran had painted a few days ago, on a different street.

As the boy paid, he said, not unkindly, "You know, your paintings are really good...they look more like they'd belong in a museum, rather than on the streets."

Syaoran was surprised, and, for the first time that day, he actually spoke more than a few words. "Er...thank you. No one's ever said that before."

The boy frowned. "Really? Well, surely, I can't be the only one who thought so." As Syaoran boxed the painting, the boy stuck his hand out, then laughed as he realized Syaoran couldn't shake it for the paint all over his hands. "Hiiragizawa Eriol. Next time I come into Tokyo, I'll be sure to look for you."

"Li Syaoran," Syaoran replied. "I appreciate it, but I don't know if you'll be able to find me. I take a different street every day."

Eriol grinned. "Well, then, if I get lucky, I'll see your booth again when I come here." He took the boxed painting and waved goodbye. "Till next time."

Syaoran sat back down, looking at the paintings he'd placed on display. Were they really good enough to be in a museum? He shook his head and decided that Eriol was only trying to be nice.

---

Sakura, Tomoyo, and Eriol sat in a warm café, drinking hot cocoa. It was about five-thirty; soon, they'd go out to eat dinner, and then they would have to head back home.

Eriol drank his cocoa and laughed. "I can't believe I just spent the last four hours following you two around while you shopped!"

"Hey, that's not very fair. You got to go off by yourself for a little bit," Sakura countered.

"Hmm...I didn't think about how difficult it would be to carry so many bags back to the car," Tomoyo interrupted absentmindedly, and she cast a brief glance at the pile of shopping bags next to their table.

Sakura and Eriol both stared at the bags, realizing for the first time how much they'd bought.

"Oh! I almost forgot. I got you a present," Eriol beamed at Tomoyo, grabbing the box he'd laid next to his chair. "I met this really amazing painter at a roadside stand...I swear, his stuff should be in magazines. Anyway, I thought you might like one," he unboxed the painting, and Tomoyo and Sakura gasped simultaneously. It was gorgeous.

"Do you like it?" Eriol said, but his question didn't need an answer, obviously.

And, without notice or warning, Tomoyo leaned over the table and kissed Eriol on the cheek, making him blush in surprise.

Sakura watched the whole thing take place before her, and while she felt great that her friends loved each other that much, it made her feel like a third wheel. "Hey, you guys, I'm going to go wander around by myself for a little bit. I'll be back in a few minutes, all right?"

Eriol frowned. "Are you sure? We could go with you..."

"No, that's all right," she reassured him. "I promise I'll be back soon."

Sakura heaved a sigh as she walked out of the café and onto the cold, snow-covered sidewalk. As happy as she was for her two friends, it got difficult being around them when they were acting like a couple.

Hazily, a face characterized by those familiar amber eyes popped into her mind. She shook her head to clear the thoughts away, and she looked around at the stores, trying to find something to do so Eriol and Tomoyo could have more time alone. She glanced to her left to see a costume shop, and, grinning to herself, she walked in.

---

_Was that all my "good day" summed up to? Extra pay and an insincere compliment? _

Syaoran sighed to himself as he looked around the street, which was still crammed with shoppers. Deciding (very uncharacteristically) to close up early, he began to gather his things, when all of a sudden he spotted the oddest sight he'd seen all day: a girl in the open costume shop across the street, wearing a witch's hat and a princess's dress, smiling at her silly outfit in the mirror. For some reason, she seemed vaguely familiar, but realized he didn't know anyone with her hair color- a distinct shade of golden-brown- and he looked at the paint brushes he'd been holding in his hand for his earlier attempt to pack his things. Then, he looked back at the girl, still twirling around in that ridiculous outfit, and wondered whether he should paint what he was seeing. He laughed at the sight, a girl who was clearly around his age dancing around in some princess costume.

He always tweaked the features of the passers by whom he painted to make sure their faces were somewhat anonymous, and he got the biggest burst of inspiration at that moment, seeing the girl in the princess costume. He looked at the stack of blank canvas nailed to wooden boards, leaning neatly against his booth. He picked one up and began to mix colors on his palette.

He'd paint a princess.

He looked up very occasionally, amazed at his luck: almost the entire time he was painting, the girl was still there. Usually, when he painted a person he saw, he only saw them for a short amount of time, and after they left, he'd have to use his imagination to paint the rest. Thirty minutes or so passed as he got the outline of the girl, her dress, her hair- when all of a sudden, the boy he'd met before, Eriol, and another girl with long, violet hair, went into the costume shop and began to talk and laugh with the girl in the princess outfit. She disappeared into the back of the store to go change, and a few minutes later, she came back out in normal clothing. As the three left the store, Syaoran abruptly caught two things that made him freeze: her eye color, a deep shade of green, even in the setting sunlight, and the watch on her left wrist.

The watch he'd given to a girl he didn't even know- a girl with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen- three years ago, when he was sixteen.

---

Yaaay, I've finished the first chapter! (: Hehe, I'm really excited about this story...I hope that people like it as much as they've liked my others. There are a few key things I didn't mention in the plot summary, but they'll surface eventually- **most of it has to do with Syaoran's quest to find his family, which I will elaborate more on in the next chapter. **I hope you liked, please review! Ja ne-

-Medieval Legend15


	2. Chance

**Emerald Sonata**

'Lo there! Wow, a year with no updates, even for a new story...it's so hard to get back on track after a hiatus XD; Thanks to everyone who reviewed, all of you were very sweet. (: I love all the feedback you guys have given me! I'm really excited about this story, so I hope that I'll be able to update this more frequently. Anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter!

**Chapter 2: **Chance

Syaoran dropped his paint brush, shocked.

It was her.

He couldn't believe it. The girl he'd met so many years ago...she'd occasionally flitted into his mind over the past three years, and he'd vaguely wondered what happened to her, but he'd never expected to see her again. And for some reason, his breath hitched when he saw that she was still carrying the watch. It was weird, but it made him feel funny—a good funny—that she'd still bothered to keep it with her. He watched her walk down the sidewalk, slowly disappearing into the crowd...

_Go after her,_ a voice in his mind urged him on. He recognized it as his own thought, but refused to listen to it. There was no reason for him to go after her; she was just some girl he'd given a ride home. Nothing more.

Then, without understanding why he did it, he suddenly abandoned his booth and ran after her. Thoughts raced through his mind at record speed, faster than he was running, in fact— _"What will I say to her?"_ being the most prominent of those thoughts.

He turned the corner, struggling through the crowd. If only he could call her name...surely, she'd hear him...what had her name been? The one moment of their meeting he so clearly remembered, even three years later, flashed briefly across his mind.

_Forgetting that she didn't even know him, she hugged him tightly before she got out of the car, surprising him. "Thank you so much, Li-kun," she mumbled, and without realizing what she'd done, she stepped out of the car and into her house. _

That didn't help matters very much. A hug wouldn't tell him her name.

_What is it? What's her name?_

He thought carefully, still trying to run through the crowd. He remembered thinking about scattered cherry blossom petals when she'd told him her name.

_Cherry blossoms._

"Sakura. Kinomoto Sakura," he said to himself, and it all came rushing back to him. She'd been lost, he'd caught her crying and felt pity—and something else, something distinct, but he didn't remember what—and he'd driven her home...she'd found his watch, a painful relic that he hadn't wanted anymore...it had been something he'd meant to destroy, but he hadn't had the nerve to, so he'd left it buried under the car seat...and he'd given it to her, almost forced it upon her, in his attempt to be rid of it...he shook his head.

"Kinomoto! Kinomoto Sakura!"

He called her name loudly and clearly, searching for her through the thick crowd of people. He called again several times, panting from running so much.

"Kinomoto Sakura!"

People around him were beginning to stare. He felt a bit ridiculous, but he urged himself on, wondering why he felt that meeting her was so important. Nobody was reacting to his calls, except the people who'd been staring at him.

_One more time. If she doesn't answer, just turn back._

"Kinomoto Sakura!" He yelled, even louder than before, and he stopped running and looked around. Nobody was stopping, but the man next to him was muttering at him to shut up. Syaoran ran a hand through his thick, messy hair and looked around one more time, and his eyes widened.

Someone—although rather far away—was now stopping and turning around to look for whoever had been calling the name, he was sure. And then, he knew it was her—there was no mistaking it—he saw her face as she turned around. Once again, he was greeted by the sight of those eyes, bright emerald even in the growing darkness, and he looked at her hopefully, excitement building up in his chest, though, once again, he felt himself wondering why this was so important...

And suddenly, he was knocked over by the throng of people, and he fell to the ground. As quickly as he could, he scrambled up, looking once again for the owner of those eyes, but she was gone. She was nowhere to be seen, no matter how hard he looked through the crowd of people.

He swore and glared at the crowd, but he began to walk back to his booth, defeated. He didn't understand why he was so disappointed, anyway. What would he have said to her?

"_I met you when I was sixteen, and I used you to throw away the memory of that wretched watch you're wearing. Will you have coffee with me?"_

He snorted at the thought of it.

_Maybe I should paint her as an angel instead. She looked more like an angel than a princess,_ he thought, going back into a sort of business mode. Now that she was gone, all he could really afford to do was concentrate on the painting.

When he got back to the booth, he sighed in frustration. Someone had stolen a painting. He slapped his forehead with his palm, knowing it had been his own fault for leaving the stall unguarded.

_Oh, well. It wasn't one of my best, anyway._

Syaoran suddenly felt incredibly tired. He packed his things and got ready to walk home.

---

Sakura smiled as she walked down the sidewalk with Eriol and Tomoyo. Tokyo had been fun.

The streets were still bustling with shoppers, although it was dark. "Last-minute holiday shopping," Tomoyo mused, and Sakura and Eriol nodded. They'd all gotten their Christmas shopping done that day, and they were off to dinner.

"So, what do you guys want to eat?" Sakura said, looking over at Eriol and Tomoyo, who were holding hands. She resisted the urge to turn around immediately. She didn't get why it bothered her so much, Eriol and Tomoyo's relationship. Maybe it was just because she wanted a relationship of her own so badly.

"Hmm...I haven't eaten Italian in awhile," Eriol said.

"Italian sounds good to me," Sakura replied, and Tomoyo nodded in agreement.

They set off to the nearest Italian restaurant, trying to get by through the thick crowd. "I've never seen so many shoppers in the street before," Sakura said, trying not to get jostled too much.

"Yeah, who knew everyone was so frantic about the holidays?" Eriol said, keeping as close to Tomoyo and Sakura as humanly possible for fear of getting separated between all the people.

Sakura stepped off of the sidewalk and began to cross the street when she thought she heard her name being called.

"_Kinomoto Sakura!"_

She looked around, brows furrowed in confusion. Who was calling her? She didn't see anyone, and she turned around to look behind her, seeing nothing. She stood still for a moment, trying to hear it again, but to no avail. Nobody called again.

Far away, she saw a young man fall to the ground as he was pushed by the crowd, and she felt bad for him, but before she could go back to help him, she felt Tomoyo tug at her hand. "Sakura, what are you doing? Let's get to the restaurant before there are too many people there."

Sakura looked back once more at the fallen figure, squinting her eyes. There was something very oddly familiar about him. Had she met him before? She opened her mouth to protest to Tomoyo, but then closed it. It was probably just her imagination.

Shrugging, she turned to Tomoyo and smiled. "Right."

---

Syaoran walked into his apartment, tiredly dropping his keys on the counter, his portfolio of paintings on the ground, and all of his supplies on a nearby table. He checked his answering machine for messages- there was just one from his friend, Takashi Yamazaki:

"Hey, Syaoran! Listen, I know you've got work, but how about you go to this new club with me tomorrow after you finish up? You've been in Tokyo for three years—two whole years longer than I have—and you still haven't been to a club...you don't know what you're missing...and besides, the ladies will love you! God knows any woman who buys a painting from you does. Anyway, I'd better go. Get back to me on this, okay? See you."

Syaoran smirked as he walked into the kitchen to make himself some dinner. Yamazaki had been Syaoran's good friend since he was fourteen, but hadn't graduated early like Syaoran had. They'd been separated when Syaoran moved to Tokyo, but Yamazaki had ended up going to Tokyo University the year before, and they'd met up again.

Yamazaki wasn't really the book-smart type, but he seemed to have a good amount of common sense about him; plus, he was very friendly, and extremely talented at spinning a tall tale, which was probably why so many girls fell for his ridiculous stories.

Syaoran called him back only to be answered by the machine. He left a response message:

"Hey, Yamazaki. I got your message. I don't know if I can go to the club, but I'll see. Drop by my house tomorrow, though. I haven't seen you in a full month—what have you been doing all this time? Wait, don't answer that—I don't wanna know. Anyway, later."

As he ate his dinner, Syaoran found himself wondering about that girl again. She'd kept the watch...he didn't know why he kept thinking that was so important, but he did. The image of the watch on her wrist flashed continuously through his mind, almost in the manner of a strobe light, and it was beginning to frustrate him.

He shook his head and tried to stop thinking about it. It wasn't that big of a deal; after all, a lot of people visited Tokyo. It had just been a bit of a coincidence, that was all.

After dinner, he didn't feel tired anymore, so he resumed painting the picture, except now, he was painting the girl as an angel. Instead of painting the dress the bold pink it had been in real life, he painted it a soft pink, almost white, to match the ambiance of the overall painting. Oddly enough, he didn't need her in front of him anymore; he had somehow memorized every detail of her hair, her clothes, her face...he worked for hours, not noticing as it began to grow later and later. Towards the end, the sun began to rise through the windows of his studio, and he suddenly stopped, realizing how long he'd been painting. He was surprised; this was the longest he'd ever spent on a painting in one sitting.

Realizing how sleepy he was, he rubbed his eyes and looked over the painting carefully, then got a shock.

For some reason he didn't understand, he hadn't made the angel's face any different from Sakura's. Yet, it was a lovely painting, and even without wings, the figure was one of innocence. It was the best painting he'd done yet.

Although he was deathly tired, Syaoran began to paint a pair of wings, and painstakingly spent the next three hours adding in details. Finally, he looked at the clock—it was ten in the morning—and then he looked at his finished painting.

With a nod of satisfaction, he managed to drag his feet over into his bedroom and fell asleep instantly, not even thinking about going to work that day.

---

Sakura walked up her driveway and unlocked the door with her spare set of keys. She'd just been driven back to her house from Tomoyo's, where she'd spent the night, just as planned. It was still early, but she had housekeeping to do with her father gone, so she'd decided to go back as soon as possible.

"Morning, onii-chan!" she called, walking into the kitchen and pulling on an apron. When she didn't get a reply, she frowned. _That's odd,_ she thought. _Onii-chan is always here if I've spent the night somewhere else._

A bright yellow slip of paper stuck on the refrigerator door caught her eye, and she snatched out from underneath the magnet, reading the hastily scrawled handwriting on it:

_Sakura, really urgent stuff going on with Yukito in Tokyo. I'm driving over there to meet him, and I probably won't be home till late. I'll explain in due time, sorry for the unexpectedness. Take care of yourself. I'll give you a call later._

_-Touya_

She frowned again, folding and unfolding the note idly in her hands. Several key phrases reappeared in her mind—"urgent stuff going on with Yukito," mainly, but there was also "I'll explain in due time," not to mention "in Tokyo."

"Fantastic," she muttered to herself. Not only would she have to spend the entire day alone at her house—she hated being alone—but she would have to spend it worrying about her brother and his best friend.

Yukito was like family to Sakura, as she'd known him since she was five, and he'd been Touya's best friend for as long as anyone could remember. The idea of him in any sort of trouble concerned her just as much as the idea of Touya or her father being in trouble.

Shaking her head, she got the pancake mix out of the cabinet, turned on the TV in the living room to create some noise, and began to make breakfast.

---

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Syaoran groaned and turned over in his bed, atypically hiding his head beneath a pillow rather than getting up.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The alarm clock warned Syaoran diligently that it was time to open his eyes.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

It was far too persistent for its own good, just five more minutes would do—

_BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP—_

It was obviously perturbed that Syaoran wouldn't get up, so he did the only logical thing that came to mind at the moment.

_BEEPBEEP— SMACK._

He squinted at the clock he'd just smashed with his fist, then cursed when he realized he'd broken the entire thing altogether. Sighing, he got up and ran a hand through his messy hair, wondering why he'd just done what he'd done. He looked up at the other clock on his wall and mentally kicked himself.

It was nine in the morning. He'd been asleep for twenty-three hours.

He stretched as he got out of bed and walked to the shower. Despite all the sleep he'd gotten, he hadn't slept very _well. _He'd had a recurring dream, or, rather, nightmare, that had been coming back to him periodically since he'd turned seventeen and moved to Tokyo. It always started out the same, but had varied endings, all of which, although very simple and not that terrifying at all, left him gasping and waking up in a cold sweat.

The dreams were a replaying of one of the most pivotal moments in Syaoran's life: the point when he'd lost all contact with his family. Every time he had these dreams, he spent most of the following day trying not to remember it. He didn't want to revisit that part of his life, no matter how hard he was trying now to find the people he'd lost.

He managed to forget about it for a few hours as he got ready for work and gathered his things together, but as soon as he set foot into his foyer, he saw the jar of money in the corner that he used as a temporary savings bank for his plane ticket/investigation fund, and everything came rushing back to him, all his defenses down in an instant...

As hard as he tried to forget, he still remembered everything, whether he wanted to or not.

The dream always began in the same way: Syaoran would watch his life as a fifteen-year-old move very quickly before his eyes, only slowing down when he made contact with his family. It all seemed so real; he'd hear his mother's and sisters' voices on the telephone so clearly, and he'd see their handwriting in their letters. This was the only part of the dream he enjoyed; here, he could see and hear what he had not been able to see and hear for the past four years. But this part of the dream always passed in quick flashes, and all too soon the dream came to the end, the part that Syaoran dreaded and feared the most.

He closed his eyes and reopened them, focused on lacing his shoes so that he could forget...it didn't work.

This time, the dream had ended in flames.

_Syaoran walked down his Tomoeda apartment driveway, taking in the familiar surroundings. He went through his mail very casually, not seeing any names on the envelopes except for one- one that should have been from his family. Instead, he saw a "no such resident, letter returned" stamped onto the letter he'd sent out the week before, and he heaved a sigh. He was quickly becoming aware that the end of the dream was approaching._

_He blinked, and he was suddenly on an airplane. Now he knew for sure that this was a dream. He'd never encountered this ending before. With growing dread, he waited to see what would happen next. _

_A stewardess passed by. "Miss," he said to her, "could you please tell me where we're going?"_

"_Hong Kong, sir," the stewardess said, and she walked away. _

_Syaoran blinked once more, and he was again in a new place. A mansion._

_His house. _

_He walked up to it. Nothing bad had happened yet; usually, by this point in his dreams, something terrible would take place, leading from one event to another until he woke up. He felt hope rise in his chest. Maybe he would sleep long enough to see his family. _

_He stepped up to the front entrance just as the front doors flew open. His mother, Yelan, always graceful, glided out rather than walked, his four sisters bouncing behind her. _

"_Xiao Lang," Yelan smiled. "You're home."_

"_Uh—mother! I can actually see you!"_

_Yelan laughed. "Of course you can see me. Come in, everyone's waiting to greet you."_

_This was the oddest dream he'd had yet. He'd never actually gotten far enough to see his family before, let alone go inside his house._

_Syaoran stepped into the house and felt a jolt of pain shoot up his leg. _

_He looked at the floor—there was nothing there—and looked back up, only to see the entire house engulfed in flames. He tried to run back out of the doorway, but somehow, he was already much too far to get anywhere, and he felt fear spread all over his body as the flames began to engulf him..._

Syaoran shook his head. _Get a grip on yourself, Syaoran. This all happened way too long ago for you to still be having nightmares about it._

With that, he grabbed his things and headed out the door.

---

"He went to see Yukito?" Tomoyo's voice was alarmed.

"Yeah," Sakura said into the phone as she ate her pancakes. "And I just got off the phone with him, and he refused to explain why. _And _he said that it's going to keep him there a few more days, whatever it is."

"Hmm, that's really odd," Tomoyo answered from the other line.

"Yeah, I'm kind of worried. I hope Yukito is okay," Sakura responded after she swallowed her food. "Onii-chan has never been so secretive with me before."

"I wish there was more I could say to help you, but I think I would need to know what's going on first," Tomoyo laughed. "Don't worry, it's probably nothing."

"Yeah..." Sakura's reply was skeptical.

Tomoyo was silent for a moment before she spoke. "Well, I know you hate to be alone...do you want me to come over for a bit?"

"Oh, Tomoyo, would you?"

"Of course! What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't? I'll be there in ten minutes."

---

Syaoran grumbled to himself as he set up his stall. He was wrestling with one of his larger paintings; it refused to remain standing up and constantly threatened to fall to the ground. He was on one of the busier streets today, so he expected many more customers than yesterday.

Carefully, piece by piece, he drew ten or so paintings out of his large portfolio case and stood or pinned them up neatly around his stall, making sure everything was attractive and visible to any people passing by. Finally, he pulled out his largest painting—the painting of Sakura—and placed it in front of the center of his stall. He had actually contemplated not selling it, but...

Finding his family was his number one priority, and that would never change. So, no matter how good one of his paintings were, he could not afford to keep it. He'd simply decided to charge it for extra.

Unfortunately, the day passed by slowly, and not many people came to his stall, despite what he'd thought. No one even seemed to notice his new painting. By lunch, he'd only had three customers, and he'd only made about 2,443 yen ($20 USD). He sighed to himself as he ate his lunch. Business had really slowed down a lot in the past couple of weeks.

_At this rate, I'll never be able to find my family, _he thought bitterly to himself. Yesterday had been even slower, but at least yesterday had been interesting. The sight of his wristwatch on Sakura's wrist flashed through his mind again. Well, thinking about her was a little more pleasant than thinking about the dream he'd had this morning. He leaned on the table of his stall with his elbows, resting his head on one hand, and smiled at the thought of her admiring her silly costume.

He shook his head. A girl his age still retaining such a childish demeanor...Syaoran himself had matured so quickly, partially as a result of the disappearance of his family, that he was not used to such...well, oddities. _I wonder if she still goes to Tomoeda High School,_ he thought to himself. He hadn't known how old she was or what grade she was in at the time he'd met her...

"Excuse me, sir." Syaoran's thoughts were interrupted by a deep male voice, and he looked up to see a very tall, rather intimidating person standing at his stall. He straightened up immediately.

"Are you interested in a painting?" Syaoran studied the man as indiscreetly as he could. He was clearly one of those rich businessmen—he was dressed in a tailored suit and expensive-looking leather shoes, his hair was slicked back neatly, a smart pair of glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and on his wrist was a shiny silver watch. The rich were not usually quite so interested in Syaoran's paintings...so why was this man here?

"Ah, yes, actually. This painting you have of this woman—an angel, I believe?—it's lovely. How much for it?"

Syaoran was surprised, but he thought carefully rather than immediately blurting out a response. He'd decided earlier to charge extra for this particular painting, but he'd never decided the price...he decided that tripling his normal price would be suitable. "1,843 yen ($15 USD)."

The businessman looked up, looking more surprised than Syaoran was. "But that's so cheap!"

Syaoran raised an eyebrow.

"Let me explain...normally, I go for the lowest price possible, and I barter like nobody else. But I'd feel awful for buying this at such a low price—clearly, it's worth a lot more."

Syaoran furrowed his brows. He'd never experienced anything like this before. "How...how much, exactly?"

"I'm not particularly adept at estimating the value of paintings, but...I'd say, given the size and the quality, at least 245,000 yen ($2,000)."

Syaoran's eyes grew wide for a moment, then his expression turned cold. "I don't appreciate people joking around with me while I'm trying to run a business. I don't have time for things like that."

The businessman looked genuinely surprised. "But I wasn't joking! Sir, I'm dead serious. I'd be willing to pay you that much for this painting."

Syaoran still looked skeptical and crossed his arms. "Prove it." He knew that, as a salesman, he wasn't doing a very good job at the moment, but he had little reason to believe this man, and he wasn't going to be made a fool of.

The businessman shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. Do you take checks?"

Syaoran was beyond surprised now. This man was actually serious! But... "How would I be able to know that you're not conning me?"

The man laughed. "You're rather protective over this painting, aren't you? Here," he said, pulling a business card out of his bag and handing it to Syaoran. "I'll write you a check, and if you have any problems cashing the check, then you can call me."

Syaoran thought a moment, then reluctantly accepted the check and card. Nonetheless, he was grateful; he'd never received such a large sum of money for one of his paintings before. "Thank you so much...but I have a question," he said as he boxed the painting. "What do you plan to do with the painting? I mean, why would you want to buy it for so much money?"

"My company takes on a new business venture as a project every year. This year, we've been working on opening up a museum, and I've been going around town and looking for paintings and sculptures that would look good in the museum."

Syaoran frowned. He'd heard nothing of a new museum being built... _I need to watch the news more,_ he thought to himself. Lately, he'd been so inattentive to his surroundings. But a new museum meant media, and if his painting ended up on TV or news somehow, there would be a good chance that he wouldn't be left alone...and he needed to focus only on finding his family, nothing else. The media would be a good promotion for his business, but he couldn't have reporters swarming his stall. Besides, he did well enough _without_ a media frenzy. "Then, I have a favor to ask," he said tentatively, carefully handing the man the painting.

"Sure, as long as it's doable," the businessman said.

"Could you please say an anonymous person painted this picture? In case anyone asks, I mean."

"But didn't you sign the painting?"

"I only sign my paintings with 'XL' in the corner. I don't really like putting my whole name on things," he said sheepishly.

The man nodded. "That's fine. So...completely anonymous? No physical description, no store location?"

"Yes. And _definitely_ no store location."

The man looked confused, but he smiled. "All right. It was a pleasure doing business with you." He walked away.

Syaoran looked at the check on the table, dazed. Had all of that just really happened?

---

"Sakura, wake up! Your phone's ringing," Tomoyo said, shaking her friend awake.

It was almost midnight, and the two girls had fallen asleep watching a movie. Tomoyo would be spending the next few days at Sakura's house, just until Touya got back.

Sakura groggily grabbed her cell phone and opened it. "Hello?"

"Hey, kaijuu," Touya's voice said from the other line.

Sakura sat up immediately. "Onii-chan! Where are you?"

"I'm at a hotel in Tokyo. Did I wake you up?"

"No," Sakura lied. "Tomoyo and I were just watching a movie."

"Oh, okay. Well, sorry for calling so late. Things have been a little hectic around here."

"What's going on over there, anyway? You promised you'd explain."

"Quit being so nosy, kaijuu."

Sakura glared at her phone as if Touya could see. "You promised!"

"I never said _when_ I'd explain," Touya said smugly. "But I will, soon. I was just calling to check up on you, but, uh...I think I have to go. I'll talk to you soon."

Sakura sighed. "All right. Bye, I love you." She closed her phone and looked at Tomoyo. "He refuses to tell me what he's doing over there," she said, looking worried. "Tomoyo, I think...I think if he stays there a few more days, and I still don't know what's going on by then..."

Tomoyo looked at Sakura, confused.

"How would you feel about going on another trip to Tokyo?" Sakura said, a grin breaking out on her face, although her tone was serious.

---

"Morning, Sakura!" Tomoyo said, giggling as Sakura walked down the stairs, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She hadn't even managed to brush out her bedhead yet.

"Ugh, how do you manage to get up so early?" Sakura said, sitting down and resting her head on the kitchen counter.

Tomoyo shrugged. "Habit. What do you want for breakfast?" She said, walking over to the TV and turning on the news.

"Anything's fine. So, about this trip to Tokyo—" Sakura stopped as she heard Tomoyo gasp quietly. She frowned. "What is it?"

"Sakura...isn't that _your_ face on that painting?" Tomoyo pointed to the TV screen, where there was a live feed of a man in a dark suit unveiling the latest painting in the new museum in Tokyo.

Sakura stared at the screen for a moment, then rubbed her eyes again. The vision didn't change. It was most definitely her face on the painting—emerald eyes and all.

---

That's it for now! Sorry for such a slow chapter...I'm trying to build things up, so that when the bigger events happen, they'll feel a lot...er...bigger. Lol. But please review! I'll update soon!

-Medieval Legend15


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